


lay me down to sleep (i will not scream, i will not weep)

by ElasticElla



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Knifeplay, Masturbation, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23727253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: Shiv has been waking up with new bruises every day of this family vacation. Shallow yellows and greens, nothing deep enough to rouse her in the moment.
Relationships: Marcia Roy/Siobhan "Shiv" Roy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4
Collections: What Fen Do (Instead of Going Outside), femslashficlets: tarot prompt challenge





	lay me down to sleep (i will not scream, i will not weep)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kimaracretak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kimaracretak/gifts).



> title from valerie broussard's a little wicked

Shiv has been waking up with new bruises every day of this family vacation. Shallow yellows and greens, nothing deep enough to rouse her in the moment. There’s a knife under her pillow, has been since she was young enough to know what monsters were. Mother wasn’t the nurturing sort, told her to confront her fears head on. 

She didn’t. 

Instead, a five year old Siobhan clutched a steak knife in her tiny fists, falling into an uneasy sleep. The nickname comes later, when she’s old enough that stabbing first at the dinner table means winning. Roman was a push-over in debates back then, but Kendall she had to be more careful of, with how he courted their Dad’s attention. 

Kendall wanted to be the prodigal son, and the bastard only saw Roman as the not-threat. Didn’t see her at all, wrote her off the moment he realized girls were different. (Better than Dad, she’d bet the moment she was born without a dick he didn’t care.)

This morning is different. 

There’s dried blood between her thighs, pearl handled pocket knife still in her grip. Shiv traces a delicate finger over the cuts, like arrows pointing to her cunt. She presses down, a sharp sting, but too old to bleed. Marcia must have visited her right after she fell asleep. 

Imagines Marcia standing over her, counting her breaths and flaws, fire burning too hot in her gut. Marcia wouldn’t be impressed with the silk negligee she wore, pretended not to care about money even after marrying – after _fucking_ – Logan Roy. Wouldn’t be impressed with her lack of panties either, probably tisked her. Probably, fuck, probably called her a spoiled slut. Might've even dared to slap her.

Shiv bites her lip, fingers circling her clit faster. Her free hand clutches the knife tighter, could stab Marcia for not being here. (Could stab her because she was, her perfume lingering in the air like a curse.)

She drags the knife against her skin, catching on Marcia's cut, fresh red blood welling up as she fucks herself harder, bucking her hips up. Mind spinning with what could be memories, of Marcia's cheap lipstick against her pussy, she comes with a muffled groan.


End file.
